Mr. Monday safe and secure in subbasement 5, Frank and Tobias fully debriefed  (if not fully healed), and the remaining Little Green Army Men going through orientation on level 9 of Company headquarters, Frank and Tobias settle down for a long overdue drink.

Toby changed his clothes, sighing as he tossed his old outfit into the bin. Too many small holes and burn-marks to be worth saving. He shifted, adjusting to the new coat before clapping Frank on the shoulder. "Where to?"

Frank had changed into a company suit. Given the state of the clothes he'd been wearing when facing Monday and the army men, they had joined Toby's in the bin.

They were still in Washington, which meant that Frank knew the turf. He suggested a place near the J Edgar Hoover building, popular with some of the Feds and people who used to be Feds, like Frank.

Susie's Taproom was your basic bar and grill, set below street level, down a set of narrow concrete stairs. Inside the place had pretty traditional decor, wood panelling along the bottom half of the walls. The bar itself was set at the back of the room, partially obscured by the row of booths that ran along the right hand wall.

Frank slid into one of the booths and caught the attention of the waitress.

"So, what are you drinking?" he asked Toby. "Hungry? This place used to do some seriously good wings." He turned to the waitress. "You still do those? With that honey mustard sauce?" She confirmed that the honey mustard chicken wings were still on Susie's menu.

Toby lived outside the city, on the belt of light connecting DC to New York. He was glad that Frank knew a place. He smiled as Frank took his drink. "Crown and Coke, but you're buying the drinks only if I'm buying the food." He turned to the waitress. "Biggest plate of the things you've got, please."

Once their order had been taken, Frank settled back into his seat, the leather creaking as he relaxed.

"Hell of a day," he said, smiling weakly. "Didn't think we were going to make it through."

The waitress brought their drinks over. Frank thanked her, took a drink from his bottle.

"Well, when you go through somethin' like that with a man, I figure it's time to get to know him a little better. So, Toby, tell me about yourself. What were you doing before all this. How'd you end up joining the company?"

Toby nodded and mirrored the weak smile. He didn't drink quite yet, but slid id gently from palm to palm, thinking over the past. He chuckled. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

He grinned. "Or, at least, that's what I've been told to say." He leaned in a little. "I used to work as an analyst for the CIA. After that I was a private investigator and... 'digital infiltrator?'"

[Private to Facilitator; Francis 'Frank' Decourcey: I was looking at the older posts to see just when Frank and I met. Toby was so much more of a screwball back then...]

Frank smiled, a little more convincingly this time. "So this is the second time you've worked for 'The Company' then," he said. He paused, took another swig from his bottle. "So you went freelance? Well, I guess I was headed that way too, if the Company hadn't picked me up." He leaned on the table, moving a little closer.

"So that explains the tech," he said, lowering his voice. "But what about, you know, the other stuff?"

"Fifth or sixth." Tobias replied with a small shake of his head. "Used to have a team before... Not quite sure what happened to them, actually." He smiled and chuckled at the comment on the 'other stuff.' "What, my magic?" Tobias didn't have a better name for it. "Discovered it after I did a CIA job on a small cult. Decided to give one of their hokus-pocus bits a shot, and I nearly shat myself when it worked..."

Frank's expression darkened slightly when Toby mentioned his team. The gloom shook itself loose quickly enough once the story about how Toby discovered magic was told.

"I'm not surprised!" he laughed. "So did you let the CIA know about your discovery? They would have thought you were crazy..."

"That's right they would have." He nodded. "Kept it a secret, obviously. Did some more research outside on my freetime, but then the CIA and I had a bit of a... disagreement. You don't want to know." Tobias took a few more gulps of his drink. "Joined the Company after about a year of freelancing."

"Can't blame you," replied Frank. "It's pretty hard to explain, or even make it sound half believable; the other stuff, the stuff we deal with now."

He leans back in his seat, drains the last of his beer.

"So, when we're not out saving the world," he said. "What do you do with yourself? Is there a Mrs Tobias Byrne?"

He snorted into his drink, cocking an eyebrow at him. "You have seen the way I dress, yeah?" He chuckled. "What about you?"

Before Frank can answer, the waitress returns with the largest plate of steaming hot wings you've ever seen. Here you go boys! She sets the plate down. Need anything else? I'll be back around to check on you in a couple minutes.

She turns around but before she leaves the television over the bar, which until now had been playing some rerun, suddenly switches over to the local news anchor with breaking news. The newscaster looks composed, albiet somewhat unprepared. Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is Jim Vance with a News4 Breaking News Alert. We have just gotten word that the St. Patrick Catholic Church, that's on 10th Street downtown, has just been attacked by four assailants riding motorcycles. We got word that 20 minutes ago, the vandals rode into the church on their motorcycles; they were armed, but we have not heard any reports of any shots being fired...

He pauses and puts his hand to his ear, clearly getting new information from his monitor. OK, I have just gotten word from the station manager that the men were not carrying guns, but they were all armed. One was carrying a crossbow, one some sort of sword, apparently, one was carrying some sort of scythe, and we aren't sure what the last one was carrying. The police have informed News4 that the suspects got away, but that nobody was injured during the attack. They are asking that anyone who knows anything about this crime please come forward immediately. We will keep you informed as any more information comes to light, and of course, we will have a full story tonight on News4 at 11. We will now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Good night.

The waitress mutters to herself, Looks like the world has officially gone to hell, then continues on back to the kitchen.

Toby listened to the news report, his eyes slowly closing as the reporter listed off the weapons, finally plunking his head on the top lip of his glass. "'I looked, and there before me was a white horse; Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest...'" He sighed, muttering a "Too true," to the waitress' comment before looking up at Frank, a wry smile on his lips.

"Fifty bucks that's our next assignment."

Frank smiled as the large pile of steaming hot wings were delivered to their table, but his smile fell away as the news report intruded on the room. He looked confused as Toby started to quote something; it sounded familiar, in fact he was certain he'd heard or read it somewhere before, but it was a long time ago and he just couldn't place it.

"I don't get it," he said, admitting defeat. "Where does that come from? I get that it's weird, sure, but what puts it in our corner?"

He had the unpleasant feeling that he would need another beer before Toby was done explaining. He decided that hot wings would have to suffice and grabbed one from the pile. He wasn't going anywhere until Burns called, anyway.

Toby smiled thinly, taking a wing between two fingers, but using it more to gesture than as food for the moment. "Revelations 6, the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Conquest, famine, plague, death."

Frank almost spat out the chicken in his mouth as Toby pinpointed the reference. No wonder it sounded familiar. He must have heard it as a child more than a few times from the hell-fire preachers who had sermonised to their Chicago neighbourhood.

He swallowed, forcing the chunk of meat down his throat before speaking. "The four horsemen," he said, sounding more than a little dubious. "Why do my instincts tell me that these ain't the originals? What do you think, copycats?"

He paused, realising that given that Revelation was a book that looked forward to end-times to come, whoever was doing this weren't strictly copycats.

"Well, someone taking inspiration from those bible passages, certainly. Anything about this suggest we're looking at anything other than a group of everyday whack jobs?"

He shrugged. "Not from the news report. And I hope they're not the originals." He finally munched down on the chicken wing. "I don't care how much I'm being paid, I ain't going to try and stop the Messiah from bringing the second coming. I hate brimstone."

Frank shook his head, finishing his wing. "They attacked a church and were riding motorcycles," he said, dryly. "I don't remember that from childhood sermons." He paused to grab another wing.

"So you were asking about my wife?" he said, relaxing at the fact his cell hadn't started vibrating in his pocket yet. "Well, her name's Diane, and she's my motivation, really. I'm a good guy, but the whole 'saving the world' thing wasn't the kinda job I saw myself in. Well, once I met her, suddenly I had a reason to do the things I do; I wanted to know that if someone was trying to bring the curtain down on this world, I'm doin' everything I can to stop that, doing everything to protect them."

He paused, worked his way through another mouthful of chicken and then continued.

"The other person in my life is my daughter, Bree. She's six, a great age. So full of life, she's got this sparkle in her eyes that tells me it's all worth it..."

His proud father experession vanishes almost as quickly as it dawns on his face. He looks like he is about to say more, but then hesitates. He finishes his wing.

"Look, I've gotta ask. When we're done with the latest assignment, waiting for the next call, you ever think about how your life ended up like this?" his voice has a hint of regret in its tone. "I mean, it's like one minute I'm hosting a family barbeque, or watching Bree in the school play, or whatever. I'm just like a regular Joe with his regular life, and then the next I'm fighting some unholy creature, or stopping a demon worshipping priest or trying to get in the way of something that hasn't happened yet. It's like I'm living two lives."

Toby munched on wings, following along on Frank's conversation. He cocked his head when he asked him about the double-life, pondering it. "Honestly... No." He replied a moment later. "I mean, I've been CIA since I left college, and I was doing intelligence secret stuff... quickly. Truth told, I don't have much of a life outside of the Agency. Small apartment, a few bookstores I frequent, a couple of restaurants, but that's basically it."